


And Rightly So

by S_Winter_Fitzgerald



Category: Miss Fisher's Murder Mysteries
Genre: Domestic Bliss, F/M, Fic Challenge, L. M. Montgomery, MFMM Year of Quotes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-15
Updated: 2018-03-15
Packaged: 2019-03-31 13:49:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 995
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13976454
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/S_Winter_Fitzgerald/pseuds/S_Winter_Fitzgerald
Summary: A glimpse of Phryne and Jack in the parlour. My contribution to March's Challenge of MFMM Year of Quotes.





	And Rightly So

> " _After all," Anne had said to Marilla once, "I believe the nicest and sweetest days are not those on which anything very splendid or wonderful or exciting happens but just those that bring simple little pleasures, following one another softly, like pearls slipping off a string."_
> 
> _L.M. Montgomery_

Wisps of moonlight draw Wardlow's lines against the night sky, the red awnings and the red rails like lipstick marks on the face of the building. The walk from the gate to the front door smells of cold - winter lulls the gardenias, spray roses, and peonies to sleep until Spring. The hall is almost made of shadow but for the soft glow coming from the small lamp on the telephone table. The dining room is dark and quiet. The staircase is dark and quiet. The parlour's door is closed. Inside, the soothing aqua walls and the golden lights look velvety in the dim light. Two armchairs in front of the fireplace. Two figures sitting on them. Two whiskey glasses on the table, faceted like diamonds. Phryne looks at Jack and smiles. He doesn't notice it. He has a book with a green cover in his beautiful hands, a History book about the Romans he found in one of the shelves and which he has been reading for the past two nights. At ease in his cream jumper, he analyses a map, comfortable as one only can when they're at home. They talk a great deal: sharing, and teasing, and discussing, seemingly never running out of conversation but they're equally comfortable just like this. She has tried to read too, but she's not very interested in focusing on that now, preferring to sit here, sipping her drink from now and then, and just revelling in his company. Between a look at Hadrian's Wall and Babylonia, Jack realises Phryne is watching him. He doesn't meet her gaze right away but smiles and doesn't make any effort to hide it. Phryne's smile widens as well. He closes the book, puts it on the table, and turns in the armchair so his body is facing her too. He rests his head in his hand and smiles again. Phryne is always divine, her wit and intelligence and care glimmering like when the sun touches the bay, but she looks even more so now, as if it could be possible, her limbs tied in those knots that reveal how relaxed she is, as contrary as it may seem, her cream long knit coat cascading around her, her beautiful profile gently kissed by the flickering light of the flames. He plans on doing the same soon. The wood crackles in the fireplace. Phryne's self-esteem is well, thank you very much, but she can't deny she likes it when Jack looks at her like that: with love, lust, fondness, friendliness, care, tenderness – some words that may seem like synonyms but which subtle nuances mirror the prism of their own relationship. They don't say a word nor feel like they need to. Filled with the quiet happiness of these moments, as they see each other like they are, virtues and flaws intertwined to make the person they fell in love with and no one else. Ruth Etting's «At Sundown» is playing on the phonograph. Mindful of others, Jack hopes the closed door is enough to muffle the sound and not disturb them. That concern occupies him for a moment, but he keeps his gaze on Phryne.

He still goes home sometimes and not solely for the sake of appearances. They take time to themselves, aware of how having it is important to their balance. After all, they have work obviously, the thing that brought them together at first making them allies or at odds with each other as the case develops. Everything gets settled at the end of the day, with their nightcaps and their company, exactly like this.

She chose him and doesn't regret it (how could she?) but is also a firm supporter of separate spheres to let the relationship breathe and to cultivate dimensions they can devote themselves to alone. After all, absence does make the heart grow fonder (if this tool isn't exaggeratedly employed that is, or otherwise there's no fondness to nurture because hears are so fall apart they barely recall each other) and she believes people who decided to be a coupe are supposed to share their lives, not to live the same one to a smothering degree that only gives grounds to resentment.

Phryne arranges herself on the armchair and looks back at Jack. She wants to go to him, sit on his lap and kiss him fervorously. She knows he wouldn't object, welcome it even, matching her desire with his own but, on the other side, she can't seem to be able to bring herself to break the thread that links their looks. _I love this man_.  _I love this woman, i_ It conveys without the need to exchange a single word. Phryne has known many moments of many happinesses but there's something new and warm and irresistible in these times when it's just the two of them, doing something as ordinary as reading and drinking a glass of something, chatting teasingly or talking seriously and sincerely. Jack had long been searching for this sense of intimacy and companionship, when it is familiar and comfortable, but there's also the promise of something exciting in the future to come, like sun hidden behind clouds yet which shine can be seen at the edges. Everyone at the house is asleep. They probably should be too, as their lids are getting heavier and heavier and their breathing slower and slower. Phryne can't take her eyes off Jack. Jack can't take his eyes off Phryne. She reaches out her hand. Jack takes it. They stay like that for a while.

(In the future, they will remember that night ten years ago. «Two Sleepy People» is playing this time and rightly so.)

**Author's Note:**

> Three months in and I finally write something featuring Phryne and Jack - here is my contribution to March's challenge of the MFMM Year of Quotes. Thank you for reading it. I hope you enjoyed it and didn't find it too sappy (but hey, these two do make me sappy so what else is new).
> 
> As usual, you can find Ruth Etting's «At Sundown» on-line as well as «Two Sleepy People». I've been sitting on the latter for years (the images it conveys, the feels) but I didn't know exactly what to do with it. Maybe I'm just being picky, but the fact that the song didn't exist in 1928/1929 was quite of a hindrance for me (particular much?). I guess I could have always put that night 10 years in the future instead of what I did but I prefer it this way. My fingers are crossed you don't find it lazy on top of sappy.
> 
> The results may vary, but I've been having a lot of fun with these challenges. Thank you again for them.
> 
> Feedback is appreciated as always. I'm looking forward to April's installment.


End file.
